


Freefalling

by spelldaggered



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt Noctis Lucis Caelum, Insomnia, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 17:54:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16202639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spelldaggered/pseuds/spelldaggered
Summary: Whumptober Day Three: InsomniaThey only get the nightmares during the day. Noctis can’t escape them at night either.





	Freefalling

Noctis doesn’t mean to scowl at Prompto when he cheers too loudly at the prospect of mattresses and clean sheets for the night. His mask slips, as it so often does these days, and the immediate hurt that flashes across Prompto’s face has his stomach clenching with guilt again.

It’s usually Prompto that sparks his frustration,  _his own best friend_ , but Gladiolus and Ignis have both received glares too often lately,  _the men sacrificing their lives for his._

Noct knows he’s being selfish, but he’s so  _tired_ he can do no better.

“Get some sleep tonight, Noctis,” Gladio says, and his tone is short and sharp, reprimanding for offending Prompto.

And that should make him feel worse, but instead he just feels the anger bite at him again, and he has to try and push it down, ignore it.

“Sure,” he replies, and pushes past them all to go stand on the balcony their hotel room comes with, desperate for some fresh air.

He can feel the eyes on his back, the glances they exchange when he’s not looking, but he ignores them for now.

Noct is tired, and they know he’s tired, but he doesn’t think his friends quite know the full extent of it.

The way he goes to bed with the best of intentions each night, only to stare at the ceiling for hours on end, until his eyes are red and sore, until tears of irritation stream down his face. Even worse are the nights he manages to doze off for a moment, woken by his nightmares only minutes later, his face taut in a silent scream. 

Even his unconscious self doesn’t want to bother his party.

And what would he tell them?  _Sorry I’m awful to travel with right now, I’m just tired. Sorry I jump down your throats at every little thing, even though you’ve given up everything for me. Sorry I’m being so petulant, I’m just ...scared._

They’re all tired, and they’re all scared, and Noctis knows that.

But when they close their eyes at night, they are granted reprieve from the nightmare they live in the daytime. There are no daemons in their dreams, of any kind, just peace and rest.

Noctis closes his eyes and he sees the city he is supposed to lead in ruins. He sees his father’s dying body, and himself holding the sword. He sees Luna being washed away from him, but the current is too strong for him to reach her, and suddenly it’s not even water, but it’s blood, and it’s everywhere, and he’s drowning it.

He wakes up gasping for air, the tacky feel of blood on his hands.

Even when he does manage to sleep, he doesn’t enjoy it.

He prefers staying awake. Listens to the birds sing, watches the sun’s rays light up the room, pretends it’s nice, when in reality, he can’t remember ever feeling this sort of overwhelming weariness, that runs through his bones and to his core, dragging him down with every step.

“Bed, your highness?” Ignis asks suddenly, and even his tone is a little cool. Noct hadn’t even realised how long he’d spent out here.

“Sure,” Noct agrees, knowing he’ll once again go through the motions of settling down, only to lie awake and listen to his friends’ breathing for another night.

At least he can sometimes sleep during the day. Well, not so much sleep, as pass out, and then wake up feeling slightly better. He’s certain they all think he’s just lazy, but Noct hardly has a choice. Besides, it’s not like they could think much worse of him right now.

“Night,” Prompto calls out quietly, as he always does.

“Goodnight,” Ignis replies, as he always does.

Gladio grunts, as he always does.

And Noct stays silent, hands behind his head, gazing at nothing above him. As he always does.

This is how the routine goes, and like clockwork, when the sun rises the next morning, Noctis could cry at how tired and numb he feels as the others get ready around him.

“I’ll drive,” he offers when they set out again, and once more, his friends look at each other worriedly, but he sees them this time.

“Noct,” Ignis begins.

“What? You’ve been driving for days now.”

“I don’t mind driving,” Prompto offers, and Noctis snorts.

“I’ll drive,” he repeats.

“Is it safe?” Ignis asks, and the look he surveys Noct with is piercing. “Are you able to drive?”

“Yes, I am able to drive,” Noct snaps, wrenching the key from his grasp and heading to the Regalia, cursing his quick temper once more.

The journey is mostly silent. Noctis knows it’s his fault, but he doesn’t have the energy to do much about it. Prompto is sat next to him, determinedly staring out at the landscape around them, anything to avoid accidentally looking at Noct. Gladio and Iggy sit in the backseat, and Noct wants to smash the rearview mirror each time they shoot each other a furtive glance.

At the two hour mark, something blurs in his vision, and he has to blink it away quickly, startled.

At three hours, he can feel his eyes struggling to stay open, and the darkness he keeps seeing lingers for longer.

At three and a half, he slams his foot on the brake as a daemon suddenly looms above them, sending up a cloud of dust behind them and jerking everyone forward so suddenly their necks snap.

Noct can’t even stay awake to help them fight; within seconds, his eyes are rolling back into his head and he’s out cold, too exhausted to function.

Ignis isn’t even sure he’s aware the car has started rolling again.

The three of them act quickly to rectify the situation. No one is sure why Noct stopped the car so suddenly, with nothing in front or behind them for miles and miles, but it’s perhaps not a bad thing given what happened next.

Gladio reaches for the manual handbrake, while Prompto grabs the wheel, and Ignis checks on Noctis.

“Is he okay?” Prompto asks, once the car has stopped again, and they’ve switched places, Gladio in the driver’s seat and Noct sprawled across the backseats, his head in Ignis’ lap.

“Just worn out,” he answers gravely, and this time the expressions they wear are sheepish, guilty for not realising how much their prince was, is, suffering.

Noctis has many more sleepless nights while they travel, and he wonders if he’ll ever sleep right again, but now when tears track down his face at three in the morning, Ignis will reach over to brush them away. When he wakes up in a panic, Gladio will reach for his hand, reassure him he’s there, they all are. And when he greets another morning with tired, red eyes, Prompto smiles at him, awake too, silent reassurance that it’ll be okay.

They gave up their days for him, and now they give up their nights as well.

And Noct knows he’s being selfish, but he’s so  _grateful_ he can do no better.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts/requests are always open over at [spelldaggered.tumblr.com](http://spelldaggered.tumblr.com) for anything you want to see, including whumptober prompts - thanks for reading! (And sorry for the delay - been living my own sickfic the past couple days!)


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